


Alright

by heatherforrest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sort Of, Who doesnt, crowley has self doubt, i projected my own angst onto crowley but it isnt really angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherforrest/pseuds/heatherforrest
Summary: Sometimes Crowley gets in these moods and can't seem to sort them out. He has doubts, which he'd never admit to anyone. He's afraid that he's not good enough. Aziraphale knows he is good enough.





	Alright

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Ineffable Husbands fic and it's unbetad because I wrote this when i was big sad. thanks

Crowley was in one of his moods. It was quite easy for Aziraphale to tell that Crowley was upset. That’s par for the course when you spend several millennia with someone and you’re soulmates. Crowley got into these moods for different reasons. They were all different, but a lot had the same undercurrent of distress. He would get into one mood when someone talked about Falling, or too much about the difference between angels and demons. Sometimes he just got too absorbed into his own worries and fell into a distressed mood. Aziraphale would take care to be extra kind, make him tea, keep customers away. He let Crowley sort out his mood and issues by himself if that’s what he wanted. That is what he had always wanted, so far, or so Aziraphale though. 

This was not the case. Sometimes Crowley felt so ashamed and dirty that he did not want to be around Aziraphale (this mood brought on by talking about Falling). He truly did want to be around Aziraphale, but he could never admit it. But most of the other moods just made him miserable, and he would have loved for Aziraphale to just sit with him sometimes. Crowley thought it was rather fatuous for him to want that, but he couldn’t help it.

Aziraphale knew something was the matter from the moment Crowley sauntered into the bookshop. It wasn’t his typical saunter, it was more subdued.

“Oh! Hello, dear.” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s peachy, angel. Just peachy.” Crowley walked into the backroom and flopped onto the couch. He rubbed his face, sunglasses on still, of course, and sighed. “Sorry for coming here.”

“Don’t apologize. It is quite alright. Would you like some tea?” 

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Azirphale hated seeing his soulmate like this. 

“No.” With that, Crowley flipped onto his side, facing the back of the couch and away from Aziraphale. Aziraphale frowned, but left the room. He helped the two customers in the store, but ushered them out once they were done. He turned the “Open” sign to “Closed.” He made Crowley some tea, even though he had said he didn’t want any. He walked into the back room, teas in hand. He set one down on the coffee table next to the couch and set his cup down on the end table next to his chair. 

“I didn’t want tea.” 

“The last time you said that, you wound up wanting some. If you decided you want it, it’s there. If you don’t, well, oh well.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you like me to leave you alone?”

“If I had wanted to be alone, I would have stayed at my own flat.” Crowley muttered. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aziraphale asked softly. 

“No.” 

“Is there anything I can do, dear?” 

Crowley huffed a sigh. “I don’t know. Jusst ssstay around.” 

Aziraphale took a sip of his tea. “If you need anything, please say.” 

Crowley grunted from the couch. Aziraphale looked at him, the strange angles he contorted himself into, and opened his book.

They stayed like that for a while, Aziraphale reading, Crowley laying on the couch. Crowley flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling of the book shop. Aziraphale put his bookmark in his book and stood up. “Move over.”

Crowley looked surprised. “What?”

“I am going to sit down on the couch. Could you make some room?” 

Crowley had been stretched out on the couch, laying across it more like a bed than a couch, but he yanked his legs close to his body. He backed up to the arm of the couch, scrunched tightly like a spring. Aziraphale sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “Talk to me, dear.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but I would like if you did.” 

Crowley sighed and scrunched up even tighter. It was very easy to tell he was still somewhat snake. “I worry that I’m not good enough.”

“You’re a demon. You don’t have to be Good.” 

“Not Good, good.” Crowley rubbed his face. “See, I told you it was stupid. It doesn’t make sense. I worry that I don’t measure up to what I should. I worry I’m not good enough.”

“Whose expectations do you think you fail to live up to?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“Loads of people’s.” He deflected the question best he could. Yours, he wanted to say, but couldn’t. God’s. 

Aziraphale had never realized that demons, specifically Crowley, felt doubt. It made sense, but it was still strange. 

“Well, I think you’re quite good. It makes me sad to see you like this. I think you’re excellent.” 

Crowley loosened his position a little bit, letting his legs be more in Aziraphale’s space, but not crowd him.

Aziraphale put a gentle hand on his leg. “You’re a good demon. You commit your wiles that I thwart. And we’re on our side now, so it doesn't matter.”

Crowley looked somewhat assuaged, but still over all had the bad mood all over him. Aziraphale began to idly rub Crowley’s leg with his thumb. Crowley moved suddenly. He switched positions so that he could put his head in Aziraphale’s lap. He kicked his legs over the arm of the chair. Aziraphale began running his hands through Crowley’s hair. “I think you’re lovely. Everytime I think you’re done surprising me with your goodness, you do more. You are more than enough, dear. And you’re always getting better. The way you saved that dove that I smothered by accident. The way you look out for the Them. Giving Anathema a ride home when you didn’t have to. I don’t know whose expectations you think you’re falling short, but they musn’t be mine.”

Crowley’s throat burned. “They are.” He choked out. “I feel like you deserve better than me.” 

Aziraphale’s hand stopped in Crowley’s hair. “Dearest boy, you are more than enough for me.” 

“Hamartia.”   
“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hamartia. It means “falling short” or “missing the mark.” They define sin with it. It feels like I’m missing the mark with you, or falling short.” 

“You’re not. I love you more than I love crepes and books and cozy little restaurants and Bach and all the other silly musicians. You are more than enough to me and you always have been and you always will. There is no one that I’d rather spend eternity with than you, dearest Crowley. You are perfect. You are amazing. You are the best thing I have seen. You were always good enough for me and for everyone else.”

“Not for her.” 

“If you would not have fallen, we may not have met. Perhaps it was ineffable that you fall. But let’s not worry about that right now. You’re enough, Crowley. Even though you drive too quickly and get grouchy in the mornings, you’re enough. And I love you. And it isn’t because angels are love, it’s because I love you.” 

And he may or may not have believed it at that moment, but it was true. Crowley whispered a tiny thank you to Aziraphale and felt the soft touch of Aziraphale’s lips to his temple. Crowley closed his eyes and rested, no longer thinking of being good enough or not, but instead focusing on the angel’s hand running oh so comfortingly through his hair. He took a deep breath and sighed lightly. It would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
